


Seconds

by SinangSung



Series: Playing with Food [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Gore, Graphic Description, M/M, Murder, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, binge eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinangSung/pseuds/SinangSung
Summary: Chan craves for something sweet and confides in Jisung.





	Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Please read warnings and tags. There is graphic description of violence, cannibalism, and murder in this story. Additionally, there are reference to unhealthy eating practices. If any of the specified content may trigger you or generally makes you uncomfortable, it's advised that you do not read this. I do not wish any of these experiences upon the actual members of Stray Kids, and nor do I believe any of the members to act as depicted in the fic. To remind everyone, this is a work of fiction. Please refrain from reading if there is a possibility that you will be triggered.

Chan has always been a very normal, well-adjusted person. It’s one of the qualities that made him so likable to his friends. Dependent and calm, they could count on him to be the voice of reason in any situation. His friends even look up to him; although, he’d call himself anything but a leader. Compared to everyone’s loud personalities and excessive overreactions, he’s extremely ordinary and controlled. He never panicked, was always level-headed. Perhaps this is why he’s so concerned right now as he stands over this lifeless body. Because this is not a time to be so calm. This is not normal.

Chan had been house-sitting for the past month and a half for his close friend Changbin. Changbin traveled often for work, and with such a large house to manage, he trusted Chan to take care of it whenever he left. He even offered Chan the opportunity to move in and become his housemate, no charges or fees required. Chan declined. House-sitting a rich person’s “humble abode” (read: mansion) was enough glamour and luxury to last him a lifetime. Nonetheless, he enjoyed his time in the mansion. The house was big, with grand staircases, marble-tiled floors, and an unnecessary amount of crystal chandeliers. But what Chan delighted in most was the kitchen.

If there was one thing abnormal about Chan, it was his appetite. He ate anything, everything, and in large portions. A part of him accepted house-sitting for Changbin solely for the knowledge of how stocked his fridge and pantry were. Changbin rarely prepared his own meals and often relied on food of restaurants in the nearby town, but that never stopped him from impulsively filling his kitchen with a plethora of expensive goods and organic items. “It makes the house look nicer”, he once said. Chan, on the other hand, preferred making his own meals to satisfy his cravings. Occasional eat-outs were a pleasant treat, but constantly ordering several entrees for himself had taken its toll on his wallet. He found that following a recipe and adjusting the portion sizes to his liking proved cheaper, and he’s stuck to the system ever since.

The kitchen not only blessed Chan with enough food to make almost anything he craved but also gave him one hell of a view to Changbin’s property. The mansion, as modern and eco-friendly as it is with installed solar panels on everything and everywhere, is far, far into the boondocks. There is nothing around for miles except forest and farms. In fact, Chan had a perfect view of Changbin’s neighbors’ farmhouse. Chan had become accustomed to waking up every morning to make himself breakfast and see the neighbors’ son go out to tend to the produce. He’d only met the neighbors’ son once prior to house-sitting, when Changbin first gave Chan a tour of the property. He was short, though not as short as Changbin, but appeared even shorter with the denim overalls he waddled about in. According to Changbin, he was the youngest son of two, left with the responsibility of looking after their family produce farm while his parents and eldest brother gave excuses to travel the world or live in the city. Changbin assumed they became tired of the farm life and wanted to get away, to be anywhere but here. When Chan sees the boy every morning, fixing the irrigation system or harvesting alone, he pities him. But then his stomach grumbles, and he tears his attention away to scarf down his breakfast.

It’s his second week there when he witnesses the neighbors’ son actually leave the farmhouse. Chan had never seen him do anything besides tend to the gardens and scurry back into the small home. He’s even more surprised when he sees the boy walking down the dirt road that connects their houses with a basket in hand and a skip in his step. The doorbell rings, and Chan has to throw down his cookbook and scramble out of the kitchen. When he opens the door, the neighbors’ son is there, clad in his denim overalls, white tee, and black bandana. He watches the boy jump back in surprise before scanning Chan from head to toe in confusion and fright. Chan can’t help but do the same. If he’s to be honest, the boy looks ethereal despite the hint of sweat over his lips and along his brow. His wide eyes and chubby cheeks made him appear soft and innocent. He looks good. It was then that Chan’s stomach decided to growl and break the awkward silence between the pair. The boy must’ve taken that as a cue to leave because immediately he turns on his heels.

“Wait, wait! I’m Chan, Changbin’s friend!” he yells out just as the boy is about to cut a corner away from the house. “I’m house-sitting for him while he’s working.” Chan really hopes he hadn’t frightened the boy too bad. He’s relieved when the neighbors’ son comes to a full stop, peeking over his shoulder with a subtle squint of his eyes. “Do you have something for Changbin? You can leave it here.”

 The boy walks back slowly, cautious of this new face to the countryside. Once he’s back at the doorstep, he holds out the basket. “These are this week’s produce. Make sure to eat them before they spoil.” Chan takes the basket into his arms, and with that, the boy quickly slips away and hastily returns to the farmhouse before Chan even has the thought to ask for his name. Chan shakes his head and watches in amusement as the boy scampers into his home, seemingly slamming the door hard. His stomach grumbles again, and he’s reminded then to make himself breakfast. Peeking into the basket, he finds tomatoes, cucumbers, and eggplants. He’d need to thank the boy some time, even if these were meant for Changbin.

The rest of the day, he can’t help but think of the boy. He’s had his eyes practically glued to the window, waiting for another glimpse of blue overalls and soft tan skin. He’s out of luck when he watches the sky turn dark and clusters of stars fill the sky. He’d usually love to admire the view, but he can’t when that boy won’t get out of his head. The rest of the night, he spends raiding the pantry, stuffing his mouth with bread and sweets, and trying to distract himself from thoughts of this boy. Unfortunately, when he wakes up the next morning, groggy and sluggish from the intense sugar coma, Chan finds that he hasn’t gotten over the boy. He blindly reaches out for his phone, fumbling to unplug the charger before briskly typing in his passcode and opening his contacts. With a tap, Chan brings the phone to his ear, lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling as he waits. The dial tone seems to take forever, and Chan is so close to losing his patience and hanging up until the person on the other line finally answers.

“Hello?”

Chan breathes out a sigh of relief. “Changbin, hey.” He doesn’t know why, but his words are shaky. Chan thinks back to the boy at the farmhouse, and he has to close his eyes to not imagine him there in the gardens. “When are you coming back? I don’t know if I can stay here longer.” He’s not usually one to panic, but he is now. Chan’s never felt like this towards anyone. For once, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t think all of yesterday. He couldn’t even clock in for work because of how mentally occupied he was. The only thing he could do was eat and eat and eat to try and settle his mind. He’s never felt this stressed over a person’s existence; in fact, he’s never felt stressed over a person’s existence at all. “I feel… overwhelmed.”

Chan can hear Changbin laugh from the other line. “Overwhelmed? You? Chan, you’ve taken up more work than house-sitting. I’m sure you’re doing fine… Unless, you broke something. Did you break something?” Chan is just about to deny Changbin’s accusation when he hears the younger laugh once again. “I’m joking. I won’t be back for six more weeks. Please, please can you stay longer? I’ll send you money if you need any for the house. You know I don’t like leaving her alone.” If Changbin could see Chan now, he’d see him roll his eyes. “Please, please, please! I’ll buy you that cookbook you talked about that one time. The… the Michael Symon one with the meat lovers-”

“Okay, okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Chan reassures. He massages his temples, eyes still closed. “Can you just… What’s the neighbors’ son’s name? He came by yesterday with your ‘weekly’ harvest.” Chan tries to hide the shakiness in his voice as he talks about the boy but ends up gulping too hard and choking on his own spit. “Ahem, his name? What’s his name?” Chan can hear a knowing smile find its way onto Changbin’s lips, but his brain shuts down the second he hears the boy’s name. It’s like his mind locked onto that single word and filtered out anything else Changbin was saying. He didn’t care that Changbin was teasing him. All he could hear, repeating in his head over and over and over like an unforgettable mantra, is Jisung. Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. With another gulp, Chan swipes over his chapping lips with his tongue and hangs up, completely ignoring the fact that Changbin was still talking. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but he throws on his shoes and bolts out the front door.

His legs ungracefully carry him down the road, stumbling over his two feet as his pace quickens. Like a moth to a flame, Chan finds himself practically gravitating towards Jisung’s house. And before he knew it, Chan is on the boy’s rickety porch, pressing the doorbell too many times. He must look terrifying because when Jisung catches a glimpse of him through the screen door upon opening the front door, he yelps. Chan blinks a couple times, watching black spots begin to cover his vision. His hand comes up to hold his head, and a dizziness begins to wash over him. That’s right, he hasn’t eaten this morning. Chan doesn’t even notice the screen door opening, and he blacks out. It’s not long before his eyes flicker open again, and he registers that he’s now sitting on an old, floral-patterned couch with a glass of cold water in hand. Jisung is sitting in front of him on a matching ottoman, guiding the glass to his lips and having him sip. It helps. He definitely must have been dehydrated, too. But god, is he hungry. Chan puts his other hand over the one Jisung has on the glass, startling the boy and causing him to spill water onto Chan’s shirt.

“I’m sorry!” Jisung pulls away the glass and sets it on the ground. Chan gets a good look at him then. He’s in those denim overalls again, but this time he’s wearing a rolled up, long-sleeved mustard tee. “Are you okay?”  
Chan breathes in deeply from his nose, hand coming up once again to hold his head and push back his hair. It smells so nice in Jisung’s house. Sweet but comforting. He brings his hand down to join with the other one that’s settled over his lap. Chan looks at Jisung, whose eyes are once again wide, though this time in concern and not just confusion and fright. He gulps again. “Yeah, yeah. I hadn’t had anything to eat today. Probably wasn’t smart to go for a run.” Chan can tell that Jisung doesn’t know what to say when he notices the silence. “I… Changbin wanted to thank you for the veggies… and me. I wanted to thank you for the veggies. Thanks.” It’s pathetic, really. Chan’s never been so unkept and flustered. It was no wonder that Jisung looks so uncomfortable. “Uh, that’s all, I guess. I’m gonna leave now.”

“Stay.” Jisung quickly said, holding his hands out as if to stop Chan from getting up. “You can have some of my breakfast. I made too much.” That came as a surprise. Chan was sure that Jisung wanted to kick him out the second he got the chance. Nonetheless, Chan wasn’t sure he could stay when he’s like this. He insists on leaving, apologizing to Jisung for the trouble, but Jisung stands his ground and tells Chan once again to ‘stay’. “If you pass out on the road, I don’t think I can carry you back.” Chan thinks it’s a lie. He’s seen Jisung drag around large sacks of fertilizer. There’s no way that he couldn’t just do the same for Chan. “I have some green beans for Changbin, anyway… And by the way, I’m Jisung.”

Chan hears his stomach growl, and Jisung helps him to the small dining table in the middle of the kitchen. It’s an old wooden table that needs polishing and probably some repair on one of the legs. On the table top is bread, scrambled eggs, jam, butter, and a pitcher of orange juice. Chan doesn’t know how that much could be considered “too much” but he doesn’t question it. Jisung pulls out a chair for Chan before going to sit in the chair across from him. Chan watches Jisung thoroughly, catching a glimpse of how he squirms in his chair to get comfy. The boy bites his bottom lip in such a way that his lips curl into themselves and his chubby cheeks appear even chubbier, and Chan finds it irresistible. He doesn’t even notice he’s sitting there with his mouth wide until Jisung looks at him and stops biting his lips. Chan clears his throat and tries his best to avert his gaze. His hand reaches for two slices of bread, the butter, and jam. Chan even dumps a third of the scrambled eggs onto his plate. Although it’s much less than what he normally eats, his portions look huge in comparison to Jisung’s half slice with jam and perhaps three spoonfuls of scrambled eggs.

Jisung eyes his plate. “Do you want seconds?”

Chan’s already finished his scrambled eggs when he answers. “No.” He swallows down the lump of food and looks right at Jisung. “Do you want seconds?” His eyes glaze over Jisung’s small frame before settling right at his chubby cheeks. “You should eat more.” He isn’t usually one to say something like that, but he just needs to tell Jisung. He has to eat more. “You’re so small. How do you not pass out?”

Jisung’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, left speechless to Chan’s blunt statements. He pouts. “I eat enough.” He emphasizes this by taking a large bite from his bread and jam, filling his cheeks. Chan bites the inside of his own cheek. Jisung was too much. “I’m just not a pig, like you.”

“A pig?” Chan laughs, “You eat with me once, and now, I’m a pig? Ouch.” Chan can anticipate the apology about to spill from Jisung’s stuffed mouth, but he intercepts it. “No, no… it’s okay. I admit, I eat a lot. But you? You eat too little. How’re you going to take care of this place with how small you are?” Chan watches the cogs turn in Jisung’s brain and smiles to himself when he sees Jisung grab another slice of bread.

“Fine.” They sit in silence for the rest of the meal.

Once the two were finished and Chan helped Jisung clean up, despite the boy’s refusal for assistance, Jisung hands over a small punnet of green beans. Chan takes them and thanks him once again, walking towards the front door. He turns around just as his hand closes over the doorknob. Jisung startles once again, having expected Chan to just up and leave already. “Come have dinner at Changbin’s place. I’ll make you something.” And he leaves.

When night falls, Chan is near sure that Jisung won’t show up. He hadn’t seen the boy outside since this morning, and he couldn’t keep himself waiting any longer. He’d been starving since breakfast, and no amount of quick meals or snacks could satisfy him. Chan is just about ready to give up when the doorbell rings. He sets down his knife and fork and makes his way to the front door. He opens it to see Jisung standing there, knees bent inward and feet pigeon-toed. He had a large white tee on this time, and the top part of his overalls were turned over to hang in front of his crotch. He looks even smaller this way. Chan invites him inside, and a voice silently cheers in his head. He’s prepared a steak and green bean stir fry tonight, enough to serve a five people. Knowing himself, he would probably eat three servings. A part of him hoped Jisung would finish off the other two. Once they sit down to eat, it’s a little awkward. Chan doesn’t know what to say and is too busy packing noodles and steak into his mouth to really think. Jisung, on the other hand, is eating slowly. He’s eating, which Chan counts as a victory, but it’s still not enough. Jisung’s plate is only half-full, and he’s definitely resisting from stuffing his face. Chan takes it upon himself to serve Jisung more stir fry.

“I wasn’t finished,” Jisung protests. “I can’t eat that much.”

Chan shakes his head. “Oh, I know you can. Jisung, I doubt you eat like a bird.” He forks three more bites into his mouth and gestures for Jisung to continue eating. “I’m not gonna judge you for enjoying food. We can both be pigs.” Chan waits once again to see Jisung’s resolve to eat little crumble away, and he revels in seeing Jisung enthusiastically feed himself bigger mouthfuls of stir fry. “See? I knew you liked it.” He can’t help but feel a warmth come over him, seeing Jisung enjoy food that he made. It’s a weird crush that he’s developed on the boy, and he doesn’t think he can complain now that he’s actually face-to-face with him. From the little interaction he’s had with Jisung, he seems to be a solid boy to have a crush on. He’s cute, hardworking, and seemingly caring. At the face surface, that was enough for Chan. Jisung looked good. Jisung was good. And he knows that he’ll be good.

Jisung snickers with his mouth still full of noodles, “Yeah, you’re right… This is too good. You made this?” He gulps down all the food in his mouth, and Chan can’t help but watch Jisung’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat. Chan bites into a skirt steak and laughs. “I’m serious. This is good. Changbin couldn’t even make pasta the last time I ate here.”  
“Can you even make pasta? I’m pretty sure if I didn’t invite you, you’d be eating bread and jam.”

The two fall into a playful banter from then on. It’s comfortable. Jisung even agrees to having seconds. Chan finds out that Jisung isn’t even that quiet. In fact, Jisung talks a lot, too much even, and brings up Changbin in almost every subject change. Chan just doesn’t have it in him to point it out. He thinks back to the call, when he tuned out Changbin, and realizes this is what he was chattering about. He remembers Changbin talking about how lonely Jisung is and how Changbin invited him for meals every couple of days to keep him company. It was out of pity, and if Chan didn’t have these feelings for Jisung, he would’ve acted out of pity, too. But being with Jisung is incredible. The boy fascinates him and is actually enjoyable to listen to. Chan just knows Jisung’s presence alone can fill this emptiness he’s had ever since he’s seen the boy. When Chan moves on to his seconds after sitting with an empty plate for the past thirty minutes, Jisung asks for thirds.

It soon becomes a daily affair. Chan walks to Jisung’s house for breakfast, and, in turn, Jisung has dinner at Changbin’s. At some point, Jisung gets comfortable enough to invite Chan to stay in the farmhouse for the day instead of going back immediately after breakfast. Chan figures that a part of it can be attributed to Jisung’s loneliness, but he can still hope it’s for other reasons, too. Along with getting more comfortable with Chan, Jisung has begun eating more. With every meal he eats with Chan, he asks for seconds, and sometimes he’ll even half the entire meal with Chan. Jisung’s cheeks are fuller now, and when Chan gets a glimpse of the boy’s stomach as his shirt rides up while caring for the garden, he can see that it’s softer and less concave with each passing day. Chan finds it adorable. One day, he goes as far as to poke Jisung’s soft tummy, and the boy blushes from embarrassment. Chan reassures him, of course. He loves that Jisung is eating comfortably and putting on weight. All the more to have, all the more to love. He doesn’t know when it starts, but Jisung begins clinging to him. The boy would rest his sweaty head of hair on Chan’s shoulder after working in the garden or wrap his arms around Chan as he waits for dinner to be ready. It’s sweet, and Chan enjoys every second of it. He’s even noticed that with Jisung there he can think about other things and focus on whatever he’s doing. Without Jisung there, it’s always Jisung in his mind with his name repeated again and again. Chan has to resist the urge to burst through Jisung’s front door just to be with him. The pantry’s supply of sweets dwindles every time they’re apart because of how much Chan has to eat to distract himself. It’s unhealthy, yes. He shouldn’t be so reliant on Jisung, especially after knowing him for only a month. But he can’t help it. He likes him a lot, and he needs him.

There comes a week where Jisung gets sick. The boy figures that it’s just the common cold and opts to keep himself locked and quarantined in the farmhouse. No matter how much Chan offers to take care of him, Jisung refuses and says he doesn’t want to Chan sick. It’s the hardest week that Chan experiences in his life. He can barely work. During a conference call with his boss, he’s snapped at for spacing out. Chan can’t even think coherently enough to follow a recipe in his new cookbook. For the entire week, he’s crammed sweets and junk food down his throat because of how miserable he feels. For a day, Chan was even angry at Jisung. How could he get sick? Does he not know how much suffering he’s putting Chan through? Chan has done everything to make Jisung comfortable and happy, yet Jisung pays him back with this. He knows now that he’s being irrational and uncharacteristically on-edge. His leg is bouncing quickly as he sits on the edge of the couch, massaging at his temples with his eyes shut. Chan just wanted this to end. He wanted him back. He needed his Jisung back.

It was at the end of the week that Jisung recovered. He called Chan from the house phone, all giddy and excited to see Chan again. And god, Chan can’t wait to see him. He wants to talk with Jisung again, to have him clinging to his side like a puzzle piece, perfectly fit against him. He can’t wait to have meals together again, to see Jisung’s plump cheeks packed with food, patting his rounded tummy as he nuzzles against Chan. That night, when he opens the door to Jisung standing there in his signature overalls and a soft blue sweater, he practically melts. Chan smiles down at Jisung, and for some reason, Chan is bolder this time. He wraps his arms around Jisung’s waist and rocks them from side to side, so happy to have Jisung with him again. Jisung laughs, sending Chan the brightest grin that he can muster. And as their rocking begins to slow, and Jisung cranes his neck up for a kiss. Chan tilts his head and bites into Jisung’s neck.

The scream that emits from Jisung’s throat is straight out of a horror film. He begs for Chan to stop, but Chan continues to vigorously grind his teeth into the muscles of the Jisung’s neck. They topple to the ground when Chan jerks forward to bite even harder, and Jisung does his best to crawl from under Chan and sprint for the door, shrieking at the top of his lungs for someone to help him. It’s useless, though. Changbin’s and Jisung’s house were the only ones for miles. Jisung is right in front of the door when he’s grabbed by his ankle and crashes to the ground. His jaw collides with the hard tile, and he accidentally bites on his tongue, flooding blood into his mouth. With a garbled cry, he kicks and flails as Chan sits on top of his stomach. The older guides his fingers into Jisung’s mouth, teeth bared in a inhumanely large smile. He pulls them out only to smear the blood along Jisung’s cheeks, poking at the rounded flesh. Jisung sobs and babbles for Chan to stop, to let him go, but Chan just smiles and shakes his head. His hands cup Jisung’s face in a way that’s almost loving, and Chan plants a soft kiss on Jisung’s bloody lips before biting down on the boy’s bottom lip and tearing.

Not much damage is actually done. Chan only manages to bite several holes through the boy’s lip, but Jisung seems to have already passed out from the shock alone. Chan shakes his head and encloses both of his hands around Jisung’s neck. If there was anything about Jisung that didn’t change while he was with Chan, it was his pretty, slim neck, just the right size for Chan’s hands to perfectly surround it. He tilts his head, admiring Jisung’s unconscious face for the last time before pressing. A minute into strangling Jisung, and the boy’s eyes shoot open. His face is incredibly red, even redder than the days Chan’s watching Jisung work in the beating sun. Jisung’s wide eyes are filled with tears, staring right at Chan in pure terror. His hands claw at Chan’s hands, his arms, and just about anything he can reach. His legs are violently being kicked around, but Chan just won’t budge. Another minute passes, and Jisung’s eyes unfocus. He hiccups and chokes as Chan continues to strangle him, and soon his legs and arms cease movement. Chan laughs then, gripping Jisung’s neck and pushing his thumbs down to crush his windpipe. Watching the life drain out of Jisung is an experience he could never describe. Jisung’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, his arms going limp as they’re wrapped around Chan’s, the purpling of his smooth, tan skin. He still looks so good.

When ten minutes passed, Chan releases his hold and bites along the prominent hand prints on Jisung’s neck. He snarls as skin is torn from the muscles there, and his teeth rip at arteries and tissue. Finally, after so long his cravings are satisfied. Blood pools onto the floor beneath Jisung’s head and smears across Chan’s face. Like a rabid dog, he growls and repeatedly gnaws at the muscles of Jisung’s neck. His taste is indescribable, yet it is perfect, succulent, and incredibly sweet. Jisung is sweeter than anything Chan’s had before. All those days without him paid off for the most perfect meal. Chan’s teeth dig into Jisung’s carotid artery, and he pulls, ogling at the extra blood splatter and the satisfying sound of ripping flesh. The tan skin around his neck uselessly flops to the floor. Chan nibbles on his artery and bits of muscles trapped between his teeth, sucking at his gums for every last piece. He laps at the blood along the tile and dripping from Jisung’s neck, wipes his face on the collar of Jisung’s ruined sweater, and sits up. Looking down at the lifeless body of Changbin’s neighbor, it clicks. He stands on his two feet, peering at empty, bloodshot eyes. After weeks of jitteriness, he’s calm once again.

He shouldn’t be this undisturbed. Chan just murdered and ate someone. But he cannot get the feeling of satisfaction out of his system. He grabs Jisung by the ankles, dragging him to the kitchen. Ignoring all the blood, Chan bends down to pick up Jisung’s limp body, cradling his mauled neck with one of his hands. The boy is laid onto the granite countertop. Chan admires Jisung’s beauty once more. He’s so good, good enough to eat.

Walking over to the dining table, Chan opens his new cookbook. He’d be wanting seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos, comments, constructive criticism, etc. are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@SinangSung](https://twitter.com/SinangSung)  
> Curious Cat: [SinangSung](https://curiouscat.me/SinangSung)


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